Vixley jumped to his feet and raised his two fists wildly above his head, then dropped them limply to his side. "_Granthope!_" he cried. "My God! Are you sure?" "Positive. Mrs. Riley recognized him to-day at my office. She used to know Madam Grant, and see him down there when he was a kid. Why? What’s wrong about that?" "Hell!" Vixley cried in a fury. "It’s all up with us, then!" "Why, what can Granthope do?" "Do? He can cook our goose in half a minute. And if Payson finds this out, it’s all up in a hurry." "I don’t see it yet," Masterson complained. "Why, here it is in a nutshell. Payson has an illegitimate son by Madam Grant—he’s all but confessed it, and we’re sure of it. We had it all fixed up to palm off Ringa on him for the missing heir—see? They was big money in it, if it worked. But let Granthope get wind of the game, and he’ll walk in himself as the prodigal son, and we’re up a tree. He’s thick with the Payson girl already, and unless we fix him, he’ll make trouble. If we could only keep Payson from findin’ out who Granthope is, and if we could keep Granthope from findin’ out that Payson had a son, we might make it yet, but it’s a slim chance now." "It is a mess, ain’t it?" said Masterson, scratching his head, and studying the pattern on the carpet. "Of course this son business puts a different face on it for me. But perhaps we can pull it off yet. Have you seen Payson to-day?" "No—and there’s another snag. Did you see the paper this mornin’? The reporters have been around to-day, and I’m afraid they’s going to be trouble about that materializin’ séance. If they print any more, I’ll have to pack up and get out of town till it blows over. What in the world made Payson suspect anything, I don’t know! Fancy done her part all right. But I ain’t afraid of that. We can get him back on the hook again all right. All we got to do is to lay the fakin’ on to Flora, and she’ll stand for it. What I want to do next is to develop him." "Yes, I see you got one of them mirrors over there," said Masterson, going up to it inquisitively. "It’s slick, ain’t it? Let’s have a look at it!" Vixley sprang in front of him and held his arm. "For God’s sake, don’t touch it! Don’t touch it!" he cried fearfully. "Leave it alone. I don’t want it started. I can’t stand the damned thing! I’m going to use crystal balls instead. That thing gets on my nerves too bad." Masterson, surprised, turned away. "What did you get it for, anyway? I should think you’d got ’em again, by the way you talk." "There’s bad luck in it. I’m going to send it away. I’m afraid of it, somehow."